Ice King
by Leafy Lincoln
Summary: As an artist, Jack expresses himself with his icy powers, giving to the world extraordinary things, small and big... but who is to know it was him making these creations?
1. A Cold King

Jack loved to create things out of the ice.

It wasn't just because it was a good way to pass the time, to try and forget that there were millions of children in the world and that none of them ever saw him- well, that was only a part of it. No, it was mainly because he liked to see what he could do with his powers. His imagination could and would run wild. There were no rules in restricting him; he could do whatever he wanted. Well, he did that anyway, but now, no one was there to scold him afterwards. It was just him and him alone.

It first started off as his simple attempts to draw something in the snow in his first two decades after his waking. It was too crude and disfigured; completely different from the intricate patterns his ice made. After much critical thinking, it wasn't long until his lake became his drawing board and his staff his pen. He would run around on the frozen water, his lone laugh echoing around the empty forest surround him, with his staff dragging behind him leaving a trail of beautiful frost and snow. The ice formed just as he wanted, obeying him such as a loyal servant would and molding itself into the most marvelous designs. He would then rise above the trees with the help of the wind and regard his kingdom in awe. The moon would reflect the ice in such indescribable ways, like it was playing some kind of beautiful, silent music. His drawings always looked better with the moonlight shining upon it.

Faces of little children, sleds, birds, bunnies, and dolphins. They made him happy. And happiness was always welcome in the loneliness he was usually surrounded with.

When he had perfected the art of the lake, he moved onto more hands on techniques. Forming shapes out of the snow was simple enough, spheres being the easiest. The boy would juggle the 'snowballs' expertly, enjoying the small point of entertainment. Sooner or later he found that if he made even larger ones and piled them on top of each other he could make something that resembled a man; shoving branches in its sides for arms and random pieces of bark into the top sphere for its facial features. If they didn't turn out exactly as he wanted them too he would throw himself to the ground in frustration, the fluffy snow cushioning his fall. He would flail around, his arms and legs making indents in the snow; eventually leading him to discover the human shape dug into the ground, looking so delicate and angelic. He'd leave these creations- his subjects, everywhere if they were good enough. He fancied the idea that someone might actually see his work; he didn't like the reality that no one ever would.

Yet, Jack's favorite thing to do was sculpt. The ice he created twisted and turned at every whim he made. Something that could be so sharp and dangerous could also be wonderful and delicate. It instinctively made floral patterns when coming into existence, showcasing its own strange, fragile beauty. The little flakes would float about everywhere, similar to snow, but smaller and more delicate.

After a while he started to make sculptures on a much bigger scale. His small figurines of the animals that inhabited the forest transformed into ginormous statues of anything he could think of. Sometimes they would be in the shape of trees, each leaf sparkling in the sun, and sometimes they would be something more… abstract. The ice would form into these distorted and unique forms, twisting this way and that. Always flowing in this rhythm; there were no odd angles or sharp edges, just a graceful slope from on point to the next.

One time he made an entire city out of ice. Jack had all the time in the world to do what he pleased, so why not? It was in Antarctica and no one was around for miles. It occupied his mind for some time, and time spent being busy was time not spent thinking of hurtful truths.

Countless situations brought him near schools, him bringing snow days and all, and that meant he was near books. Books that were filled with information- about different people, events, activities, animals, and, most importantly, places. He had seen countless pictures of distant castles and palaces, as they were everywhere in the world. And then, once he knew of their existence, he would travel to them personally and view the giant masterpieces done by astounding artists'. Sizing them up, he'd learned his fair share of architecture.

That only left him with making his own.

He made his grand and flamboyant, hard not to miss, something that should make everyone gaze at it with wonder if they should every look upon it, which they wouldn't. It had the basics that any castle should- outer walls, battlements, courtyards, posts, and tall towers. Walls stood sturdy and strong, white and glistening, fortified by his frost, which was a layer present over every surface. Enormous, spiraling towers reached for the sky, their tips touching the moon. Rooms were excavated, that included living courters, an armory, a dining hall, all put together with a massive throne room. Detail was exact, as he went very far to make his art look like the real castles that were present around the world. Everything about it was to be authentic- detail, structure, and size.

But major differences present in his domain were the countless icicles that were hanging everywhere, whether he wanted them to or not. The ground was slick and shiny, his reflection present, perfect for skating across and racing. With the temperature far below what was average, it was silent and still. Not even the wind wanted to let out its usual whispers in this isolated place. His actions weren't that loud to begin with, but this lack of sound made Jack's single footsteps seem ear-ringing.

When he was finished he personally skated throughout the place, giving a quick scan to see that everything was how it should be. Then there was his throne room, which was his room. Vast and open, it was fit for a king. An ice chandelier hung from the ice ceiling, fitting nicely with the clear curtains and blank paintings. The throne itself was great and large, clearly for a powerful and wonderful being. He had made his own tweaks, adding a much more frozen and naturally made look to it. It was a colder design that suited him, clearly.

With his work done, he was able to lounge in his seat, propped in a position where his legs poured over the arm of the throne while his head rested back against the other. His staff contently resting in his lap, Jack smiled as he admired his work. If anyone was to see it, they wouldn't hesitate to praise him and his work. In fact, he'd like to think they'd question him on how he had done it all, not relenting until he'd given them the answer. How he had made the floor look like tiles, but still feel so smooth? How he had made his walls thin, but still strong and supportive? How had he even gotten the curtains to look as if they were flowing and real, not just the hard, vertically strip of ice? How had he known where to use ice and where to use snow?

But no one would. Not a word would be uttered to them, as the number of people who could speak to him, let alone see him was next to none.

Jack's smile slowly faded.

His breathe didn't create any fog, no indication that life was present. The silence was ringing profoundly, deafening almost. It was pressing down on him, inching closer and closer. He started breathing faster. Wheezing in fact, chest heaving as he tried to capture any form of air. Icy blue eyes darted around, panicking. Wherever he looked his reflection stared back at him, reminding him that he was the only one there. All alone. He was suffocating. It was too much; the silence was just too much. It was no longer bearable. It couldn't be just him.

Something needed to fill the silence. Anything.

"Please…" It was a whimper, so small in such a large room. The silence swallowed it up and pressed against him all the harder. Jack closed his eyes as he curled into himself, trying to find warmth in this deserted wasteland. He tried to imagine someone, anyone hugging him, sheltering him from the cold. He couldn't. It looked so natural when he saw children do it; it being as simple as wrapping their hands around their mother's waist, the gesture instantly returned.

He could feel the ice trailing up his hollow throne, trying to reach out and comfort him. It was a distorted and laughable excuse for a hug, but he took it nonetheless. He watched it stalk across the room and up the walls, encasing everything in another layer of ice, with glazed eyes. It attempted to fill the room, to drive the silence away from its distraught master. The temperature dropped, so much further that mist started creeping its way around the empty room.

All through the while, Jack curled there on his throne, clutching his staff tightly, wishing. Wishing that this wasn't all there was to him, despair and the cold. Wishing that someone would come. That someone would come and he wouldn't be alone anymore. Someone would come and keep him warm. After all, no one liked a cold king.

And that's what he was. A king. A king with a grand kingdom, so magnificent and beautiful. Yet, it was just him. No one else. He was a king who had nothing, nothing worth anything. What was all the power and fun in the world when there was no one to share it with?

It wasn't worth anything.

With that thought Jack closed his eyes, letting the cold creep over him. He stayed in that position for hours, until finally his dreams took him hostage. Submerged into a restless sleep full of nightmares, which was no better than reality. Nightmares where he was completely alone, calling out for someone and having no one answer back.

A king with nothing.


	2. What Makes A Kingdom

"Grimski Gorsvkoff!" North exclaimed, hands jutted on his hips as he leaned back to gather all that he was seeing. There was no care to keep his voice down, as there was an assurance that no one would hear him, along with the other Guardians, in the desolate South Pole. They were all alone to gasp and gawk as much as they desired at the marvel standing before them.

A castle, made entirely out of ice.

It was nothing like they'd ever seen. Even North's Pole, with its giant towers and sleigh run, was minuscule in comparison to what they were seeing now.

And there was Jack, childish and feeble as he stood there, smiling nervously. The way he shuffled from one foot to the other made clear how uncomfortable he was. He alternated from fiddling with his staff and scratching the back of his head, unsure what to do with himself as the Guardians looked on at his creation.

And look they did. It was more of gawking than staring, as every one of them were supporting stunned expressions. Even Bunny had no witty words; ears back and eyes wide as saucers. Sandy was silently clapping while Tooth twittered on excitedly, flying all around.

"Uh… yeah…" Jack laughed nervously, avoiding their gaze and the sight of the tower. "This was something I did to pass off the time…" Again, he laughed in that awkward tone, it coming out as a bit forceful. This creation of his seemed a little too extravagant and obvious of his want for attention now that he looked upon it again. "Although this was one of my _bigger_ projects."

The others still stared, deaf to his words.

And so, Jack continued on, unsure where to stop, just plowing straight through. "It was about the first century that I started getting…" He paused, unsure of what to say. "bored. I'd given the kids snowmen, snowball fights, sledding and ice skating races, and even snow angels; but I got tired of them. The kids didn't, they spread the games all around and continued to enjoy them. I kept trying to come up with new things for them, something they'd enjoy. I guess… I guess I just hoped someone- anyone would notice it was me and finally see me, believe in me."

His eyes were glued onto the ground, unaware of the glances cast his way.

"So I made more: ice sculptures, drawings in the snow, specific frost patterns… Heck, I think I created over a million of snowflakes for them. Well, anyway, they sure enjoyed them. But they didn't seem to get that you could never keep one for more than a second. They melted so easily and that's how I wanted them; it was the fun of the chase, you know?" The Winter of Spirit peeked up at them for agreement before averting his eyes once more, his body swaying with the wind. His whole attitude was becoming somewhat like Tooth's- talkative and constantly moving. It was all too clear he was babbling.

"I'd seen in books all the pictures of these amazing places, places that existed, places I'd never really seen. So I'd figure out where they were and went to go see them myself. I mean, why not? And whatever anyone says, it's completely different seeing something in person than seeing it in a picture. When you're there you can see the texture, the structure, everything that makes the piece. It's pretty breath-taking. You really need to learn everything about a place if you want to recreate it." Jack finally looked up at the castle, nodding to himself. "And as you can see that's what I sort of did."

Tooth finally came out of her amazement and looked at the immortal teen. She zoomed at him, invading his personal space. "Jack, you recreated a palace? Which one? I've never seen anything like this in the world." She turned to look at it again, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe it before whipping her head back in his direction. "It's wonderful!"

Jack gave her a smile, somewhat abashed with the compliment and her close proximity. "I didn't make a replica. I was saying that that's what you need to do in order to recreate something- what I did to create all my sculptures and drawings. This," He motioned to gigantic palace in front of them, with its glistening walls and towers staring down at them. "isn't a copy of any existing castle. I made it using what I learned and observed from the others I've seen. After seeing so many of them, I kind of just put it all together. Most of the style comes from castles I saw in England and Ireland, but there are some Indian touches to it somewhere, I just can't remember what." He rubbed his chin, concentrating hard, but grasping nothing.

"Hold on a second, Frosty." Bunny butted in. "Ya' built this, I can accept, but how long did 'ya take with this bloody thing? It's bigger than the North's workshop! And that's sayin' somethin'." The big man nodded in agreement, still unable to take his eyes off the structure, his gaze absorbing everything there was, no doubt thinking about designs that would be wonderful additions to his toy supply.

"Three days." Jack stated nonchalantly, looking back at the castle before turning his gaze to Bunny. "Four if you count when I was doing the interior." He shrugged, absently twirling his staff, trying not to shy away from the stares he was getting once more. This time North tore his eyes away from the castle to stare at Jack, eyebrows raised. The boy squirmed; three centuries of solitude would never prepare anyone to be the center of attention, especially within North's radar. "Enough with the staring!"

Sandy floated to him, golden pictures decorating the space above his head. Jack gave him a small smile, despite his awkwardness. "Yeah, I did almost everything you could think of. Everything you'd imagine in a high and mighty castle, I have in there. Took some time, but I got it all."

At the boy's statement, Sandy smiled even wider, even more excited. Shapes danced around his head, indicating an obvious want. He wanted to see the inside.

Jack looked hesitant. "I don't know… It's been a while since I was here. The foundation might be fractured and some things might be melted or-"

"Quit yabberin' like a baby, Snowflake, it's not your style. We all know ya' want to show us, so show us." Bunny interjected; fluffing up his fur with the coming wind. "Besides, it's freezin' out here. I' don't know 'bout you all, but I sure as hell don't wanna loose my tail." His tail seemed to flick in agreement. And with that, he bounded forward on all fours, ignoring the indignant "Hey!" from Jack, who ran right after him.

Tooth giggled and flew after them, followed by Sandy. North clapped to his team of reindeer, urging them forward to the castle and out of the chilly winds, and strut inside himself.

They crossed over the bridge that arched over a large mote surrounding the castle. It whined under their weight, causing Bunnymund to suddenly remember that he had a dentist appointment, far away from the precarious bridge and its possible drop. Behind him, North put a secured hand on the pooka's shoulder, limiting his path to one direction, forward.

There, inside, was so much more to see. Giant rooms filled with sculptures, weapons and furniture made of ice, busts of heads, slick portraits and countless mirrors, delicate ice pieces and lavishing chandeliers. Some things were replicas as the winter spirit had said, but there were other pieces that could only have come from Jack- smiling faces of children in pictures, sculptures and statues of individuals running and playing, all frozen in place, happy smiles gracing their faces.

The ground, so sparkling and slick, became a skating rink in its own right. North seemed at ease, despite Jack constant wincing at the cracking he was sure he heard whenever the big man stomped. Tooth dropped from the air multiple times to slip and slide her way through the halls, switching from laughing from the fun and gazing at the wonders as she passed them by. Sandy was a natural, as his excitement made him intent and sure not to fall asleep mid-skate. Jack laughed every time Bunny slipped on one of his paws and slid face-first into a wall or the rear of North's reindeers.

Their voices bounced around the walls, happily filling the usually empty rooms.

And soon, it was no longer Jack lagging behind, unsure and cautious of how the others would think of his creation, but him in lead, offering answers to any questions they had. He gave clarity to Sandy or Tooth's question of the origin of one thing or another. Some detailed descriptions on certain features found in this wing of the castle were given to an ever so curious North. Yellow sand flowed this and that way, curiously exploring along with the Sandman every small picture and figurine. Everything came back to Jack as they went further in the castle, memories of creating every object and piece flooding his mind. This time around the memories didn't hold the emptiness of the loneliness he felt, only the ecstasy of crafting the creation themselves.

Some parts of the castle were broken down; decent sized cracks could be found on some of the sculptures and pillars due to years of neglect. Chunks of ice were scattered around the castle, the edges reflecting the light reaching them in an array of directions. Scratches on the ground weren't rare, but common enough, from falling pieces of the ceiling. At one point they entered a room that had all but collapsed on itself, halting their tour for a few moments. Jack immediately repaired anything that needed his attention; ice crept its way into every crack, smoothing over any damaged surface.

Surprisingly, nothing was broken even further due to the fact of having a clumsy Bunny or a lumbering North, even having an entire team of reindeer, complete with a sleigh, clambering through. Everything stayed just as beautiful, apparently waiting for its time to be viewed by appreciative eyes. After so much time, the castle was being inspected, being occupied, and filled with living individuals. Clouds of breaths filled the rooms, sounds of footsteps and voices rounding about the walls; the sense of fullness was in the air.

Everything was complimented and praised; Jack was exclaimed as an artist. He had a gift, they all agreed. One after another, they kept on talking, telling him of the things they loved most, only to find something else that caught their eye. Bunny even nudged him on the shoulder, saying he'd really made "something special", Tooth and North going on how it was more than special, a real masterpiece. North even went as far as putting a thick arm around the boy in a strong sideways hug, proclaiming loudly that he needed to bring this kind of workmanship to the workshop. All kinds of contact were given to him, ranging from quick pats of affection to lingering, tight hugs.

Jack, the spirit who had nothing and wanted only to be seen, had all he could ever want right then and there.

There were people all around him, happy to know him, to see him, to talk to him and believe in him. They praised him, acting like a family proud for their child's accomplishment and he shined for the first time because of it. His work, something he'd viewed as damned to never be seen, was being looked upon with awe. The kingdom he'd created, abandoned and pitiful, was more than that; it was beautiful, praise-worthy, and now bursting with life, deserving of the marvel it received.

As long as his friends were there his kingdom had everything it-he could ever ask for.


End file.
